


A Study in Childhood

by TheMadThing



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Depression, Johnlock not explicitly stated, Multi, Self-Harm, Slash if you squint, Suicide, Trigger Warnings, can be read in or not, slightly AU, teen!lock, teenage john and sherlock
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-28
Updated: 2015-01-02
Packaged: 2018-01-26 22:01:36
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,221
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1704089
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheMadThing/pseuds/TheMadThing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A year in John and Sherlock's childhood that shapes their lives and explains a bit how they are in BBC Sherlock. Not a happy fic at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Study in School

A new day, a new school, his first. Sherlock hesitated by the gate leading into the playground, nervous. He had never done this before, and the thought filled him with dread. There was a lot odd about him, especially a love of Physics and sci-fi, and he had no idea that he should keep such things private. He was also extremely intelligent; almost genius level. He sighed, and stepped through the gates, readying his mental shields for whatever was to come.

A new day, a new school, again. John sighed and marched into the playground, moving purposely but invisibly, a trick he’d learnt in all his new schools. With an army father, he never stopped for more than a year before moving off again, and John never bothered making friends. There was no point, even if people had wanted to know him. At least, that’s what he said to himself, as he stepped through the gate.

Sophie Evans noticed him first, a new boy, who stuck out like a sore thumb. He seemed like he was trying to ‘do a chameleon’ as she and her friends called it; blending into the background so no one would see you. He was failing dismally, a result of the long coat he was wearing, and the fact that he was so painfully obviously new. She pointed him out to her friend, Jasmine Thomson, who had just appeared next to her,  
“Look at him,” she said, “Poor kid, he looks so out of place. I wonder why he’s so nervous,”  
“Doesn’t look like he’s ever been to school before,” she replied, “Or he wouldn’t wear that coat. He has no idea what he’s in for. Hello Tanya, Kat.”  
Everyone else looked around to see Tanya Chan and Katrina Smith walking towards them. The young Chinese girl grinned, and said,  
“Two new boys in one day. It’s the first day of school.”  
“No kidding,” joked Katrina.  
“You know what I mean.”  
“So where’s the other one?” asked Sophie.  
“On his way, Ed’s bringing him, he looked like he could do with some friend, and we figured we haven’t exactly got friends to lose.”  
“By that logic we should invite Coat over there,” pointed out Kat.  
“Come on then you li’l’ shits,” By the time she had finished speaking, Sophie was already leaving, heading in the direction of ‘Coat’.   
By the time they caught up with her she had introduced them all, and invited him over. ‘Coat’ was looking very confused by this, but followed them back, just in time to meet Ed and the other new boy, who revealed that he was called John Watson. ‘Coat’ was called Sherlock Holmes. John was the son of an RAF pilot, and Sherlock was a complete social retard, and a near genius. This was decided by the rest of the group, after he said that he was stupid and then told them all their life stories, in almost more detail than they knew. Kat insisted that he teach her how at some point. He seemed completely unaware of his extensive intelligence, so they took it upon themselves to instruct him in basic school survival skills. John was perfectly capable at that, and offered to help. As it turned out Sherlock, John and Sophie were in the same class, so she led them off to their first lesson, and they agreed to meet up in their usual place at morning break.  
As they entered the classroom, Sophie said to Sherlock quietly,  
“Don’t be a smart ass. Don’t offer to answer questions, and if you get picked, get it slightly wrong, but not really wrong, or pretend you don’t know. You don’t want to get on peoples smart-radar.” Sherlock seemed confused by this but he had no chance to ask, as the teacher entered and told them where they would be sitting for that class. As it turned out, Sherlock was next to John, so he was able to keep an eye on him, make sure he didn’t stand out as too clever. The teacher tried to make them both talk to the class, but John was an old hand at avoiding such situations, and they easily dodged it. The class was history, thankfully not one of Sherlock’s strong points, so when the teacher asked him questions he didn’t have to try to feign ignorance, something he was not good at. As expected John aced at not standing out, and not seeming too clever. Eventually the teacher gave up testing them and trying to get answers out of them and moved on to haranguing the other children in the class.  
At break they all met up by the wall, opposite the gates, which were closed and padlocked.  
“Surely that can’t be legal?” asked Sherlock.  
“It’s not,” replied Kat, “But it’s the only way to make sure nobody runs off, or sneaks out and returns with alcohol or drugs.”  
“Why stand here then?”  
“Coz there are other ways out than the front gates, and this is right next to one. If someone comes at you with a knife, it’s always a good idea to have an escape route handy, come on, we’ll show you both.”  
Jasmine led the way towards the door nearby. It was an old unisex changing room, never used and still fairly clean. Inside, under the sink was a massive hole, big enough to comfortably crawl through.  
“That hole,” she said, “Leads straight out through the wall into a bush. We’ve had to use it once or twice.”  
“Three times actually,” interjected Tanya.  
“Whatever,” shot back Sophie cheerfully. They returned to their spot by the wall, and watched in amusement at three year sevens trying to climb the gates to get out. They got about half way up before they hit the grease which was painted on, for that purpose. They slid down to raucous laughter from the watching year ten boys. The girls who always hung around them giggled into their hands, pretending to be demure and failing dismally. All of them had bleached hair, and faces decked out in orange make-up. They were always following the boys around, dating them periodically, and falling out among themselves. Thankfully they ignored the little group of year nines, deeming them unworthy of mocking, which was a relief to John, who had been on the receiving end of far too much of that sort of thing in his school life. The rest of the day was uneventful, and they headed home with plans to meet up before school somewhere quiet, and arrive at school as a pack.  
The next few weeks were all the same, school, homework, weekend. Nothing dramatic happened. Sherlock and Kat became close friends, as did Ed and John. Sophie was fairly on the edge of the group, but that wasn’t new, so everyone assumed that she was cool with it. Mostly the ‘cool’ kids left them alone. The size of their group discouraging causal bullies, but one day a group of year 10 boys came over to them and just stood, watching for a few minutes, then wandered towards them, picked up a stone and threw it at Jasmine. It missed, but they all looked around at him, and the boy spoke,  
“That got your notice din’ it,” he jeered in a rough cockney accent, “Yah weirdo freak kids. What yah gonna do now, go cry to teach?” John’s eyes narrowed slightly. Unnoticed by the others he bent down and picked up a larger stone than the other boy had thrown and held it, feeling its weight. Then, as quick as lightning, he threw it as hard as he could at the other boy’s crotch. His aim was perfect, a product of many hours practise, and the boy doubled up in pain, shouting and swearing. His gang looked uncertain about retaliation, unused to prey that fought back. John gave a satisfied smirk, and turned back to the others. They gaped at him admiringly, until he hissed,  
“Talk, act like nothing happened.” And they went back to their conversation. The gang stared at them for a while then walked away. Tanya opened her mouth to speak but Jasmine beat her to it,  
“When did you learn to do that?”  
“I practised the stone throwing at home, but I learnt to use it to get rid of bullies from a friend at my first school. It’s served me well over the years.”   
After that incident nobody bothered them for a long time.


	2. A Study in Home

Johns POV

John’s dream was shattered by the violent screeching of his alarm clock, then a clang as it fell off the bed into his bin. He sighed, and reached down to silence it, and replace it on his bedside shelf, the only surface of his room not covered in pictures, of his family, but mostly just his dad. He dragged himself out of bed and slumped downstairs to get breakfast. His sister, Harry, was already there, pouring herself a bowl of cheerio’s.  
“Morning bed head,” she said, more cheerfully than John felt she had a right to be at eight o’clock in the morning. He grunted a reply, and went to get the coco pops out of the cupboard. She laughed at him, before returning to the preparation of her own breakfast. John’s mother was the last down, having taken the time to dress and brush her hair. They sat around the table in uncomfortable silence. The fourth chair was conspicuously empty, John’s father already gone away to his posting with the navy. John finished his cereal and headed upstairs to get changed.  
“John,” his mother called after him.  
“Yes mum?”  
“What are you doing today?”  
“I’m hanging out with some friends from school.”  
“Be careful,” she warned, tone of voice not seeming at all concerned. He sighed, and carried on up the wooden stairs. She never cared and he’d stopped caring about it long ago. Ever since his dad had started to be away so much she’d become kind of distant, like half of her was away with his father, only coming back to be herself when his father came home. Harry never seemed to notice, and John didn’t want to worry his dad with it, but it did make him feel terribly lonely at times having no one to talk to about it. He sighed again and started to get dressed.

Sherlock’s POV

Sherlock woke at precisely 7:00 AM, as he always did. He sat up slowly, and turned on his bedroom light. The room was sparsely furnished, just the bed with plain, cream, covers and a table with a laptop sitting open on it, and his school books and bag underneath. His walls were white, and the carpet was a muddy brown. There were no pictures on the walls, or posters, nothing even faintly resembling the room of a 14 year old boy. He sighed and headed downstairs for breakfast. As he entered the kitchen he was greeted with,  
“Our idiot has come to join us,” from Mycroft, his brother.  
“I’m cleverer than all the other kids at school,” he protested. Mycroft snorted, and gave him a reproachful look,  
“Now now Sherlock, what has Mummy said about lying?”  
“I’m not lying!” Sherlock shouted, cross and upset, “I’m not!” Mycroft ignored him and went back to the newspaper he had been reading before Sherlock had come in. Sherlock scowled and went to put some toast on.  
His mother came down a short while later to find Sherlock glaring at Mycroft, who was carefully ignoring him. She sighed, unsurprised,  
“Boys, can’t you get on for five minutes?” she asked wearily.  
“Mycroft said I was lying about being more intelligent than everyone else at school,” Sherlock piped up indignantly.  
“Mike, stop being mean. You know both you and Sherl are far more intelligent than any other children your age.” Mycroft sighed,  
“Mother, my name is Mycroft. That’s what you christened me. Call me it.” He went back to the newspaper, and started muttering about the incompetence of the police force and the government in general. Sherlock sighed and left the room. He didn’t bother to tell his mum about going out to meet the rest of the group later, because she didn’t care. As long as he didn’t get into too much trouble she never bothered with what he did all day, and he was always careful to conceal the bruises he sometimes brought back.

 

 

Katrina POV

Katrina woke with a start at 6:04 AM from a nightmare. She sat up, panting and sweating, terrified. It took her a moment to calm down, but when she did she slumped back onto the pillows, sobbing. It was the same dream, every night. She sat up slowly and wiped her eyes, looking around at the familiar room. The walls were a bright, cheerful yellow and plain white bookcases covered the walls, apart from a white wardrobe, with bookshelf attached that stood over the end of her bed with its royal blue covers. She sighed, and got up to get a book to read until breakfast.  
Two hours later the familiar call of,  
“Breakfast time,” echoed through the house. She dragged herself out of bed, tying on her dressing gown as she went down the stairs. Breakfast was a silent affair, nobody really awake enough to make conversation. As usual Kat finished well before her sister or parents, and was the first, therefore, to head upstairs to get dressed.  
Later she called to her mum,  
“Mum, I’m going out for a bit with the others. I’ll be back by five o’clock.”  
“OK,” her mum called back, “Make sure you’ve got your phone with you, and your keys.”  
“Don’t worry, I have,” she called, then left. They had the same exchange every time she went out with the group, her mum never trusting her to remember her keys and her phone, even though she never forgot them.

 

Jasmine POV

Jasmine got up off the floor where she slept, on the wooden boards of the living room. She stretched and got up to get dressed, as quietly as possible so that she didn’t wake her father, who was sleeping off last night’s beer. Every evening he went out drinking away most of the money he earned during the day, at his job as a cleaner. He had been this way since Jasmines mum died last year, constantly trying to drown his sorrows in his beer cans, and always failing. Alcohol is a mood enhancer, and consequently the more he drank, the sadder he got, and the more he tried to drown his sadness, and now he no longer cared about his daughter, only his beer. Jasmine left the house quietly, sadly, knowing he wouldn’t even realise she had gone.

 

Sophie POV

Sophie woke up at 9:00 and promptly rolled over to go back to sleep, until her sister burst into the room five minutes later and physically dragged her out of bed. She batted her away ineffectively, and stumbled down to eat. Her parents had already been and gone, being less inclined to laze around like Sophie was, so she ate alone. After she’d eaten and got dressed she headed out to meet the group, having told her mum where she was going the night before.


	3. A Study in Happiness

Kat walked quickly towards the park where she had agreed to meet the rest of the group. As she rounded the last corner Sherlock stepped out of a doorway and slipped an arm round her. She stopped walking,  
“Sherlock, you know how hard it is to walk like that,” she reminded him, before removing his arm and taking his hand in hers instead. He smiled at her, and she smiled back, before they continued on their way to the park, hand in hand.  
“You know,” Sherlock began, “Holding hands is a much more significant gesture than people realise. Your hands are so important to life, and...”  
“Shh,” Kat interrupted, putting her finger over his lips, “Come out of encyclopaedia mode.”  
He smiled again, and quieted down.  
They entered the park like that, seeing John and Ed waiting for them already; having bagged the top platform of the climbing frame they liked to hang out on. She mock scowled at them, then let go of Sherlock’s hand to climb up, though he quickly reclaimed her when they reached the top. They sat down together, legs dangling over the edge, Kat’s head resting on Sherlock’s shoulder as they took a few minutes away from the cares and worries of everyday life. After a while Kat looked up, and nearly laughed. John and Ed insisted that they weren’t anything more than friends, but it was obvious to everyone that they meant more to each other than that, they just hadn’t even admitted it to themselves yet. They were sitting slightly closer together than is consistent with platonic relationships, even very close ones, and the way John was looking at Ed was so sweet, and full of love that it seemed incredible that they hadn’t realised yet that they were in love. Unfortunately, at that moment Jasmine and Sophie arrived, Sophie calling loudly to them, ruining the moment,  
“Hey love-birds, look what I found!”  
“What?” Kat called back, choosing to ignore the ‘love-birds’ comment.  
“Spearmint soft mints!”  
“What? I thought they’d stopped making them?” John called, surprised.  
“Apparently not, it’s a miracle!” They laughed at that, and Sophie and Jasmine climbed up with the mints, which they then offered round. Sherlock stole Kat’s but before she could snatch it back gently put it in her mouth, causing John and Ed to go, “Eww” and Jasmine and Sophie to go “Aww” Sherlock smiled at her then Kat leaned up and they kissed, lips on lips, gently. When they pulled apart Sophie said,  
“Hang on, you guys have been dating for two months, and that is your first kiss? Slow going there guys.”  
“Soph, shh,” scolded Jasmine, “Let them take their relationship at their own pace. There’s more to love than snogging and sex.”  
“Well, I wouldn’t know,” Sophie retorted, “I’ve never had a boyfriend, or a girlfriend.”  
“Maybe we should find you one,” suggested Ed.  
“Hell no,” Sophie replied, “I know your type and, no offence John, it’s not for me.” John looked at her, apparently genuinely bemused as to why he might take offence at that. Kat laughed at him.  
It was only a couple of weeks later that John and Ed announced to the group that they were now dating. Everyone just smirked at them, and said things along the lines of “finally” and “we told you”.


	4. A Study in Cracks

One month later

 

 

Kat was walking to the corner shop near her house to get some milk, because they had run out, when someone slid an arm around her. She jumped, making the person chuckle and she relaxed as she realised it was just Sherlock.

 

“You scared me,” she scolded jokily.

 

“You left the house in a hurry this morning,” he said, ignoring her, “Did you eat breakfast?”

 

“You ask me that every day.”

 

“And every day you lie and say you did.”

 

“Sherlock...”

 

“No,” he held her arm to stop her, and pulled her around to face him, “You get thinner every week, you clearly never eat breakfast, probably not much dinner, if any, and it worries me. Why Kat? Why do you do this to yourself?”

 

“You wouldn’t understand.”

 

“Try me.” She pulled away, and walked off.

 

 

Jasmine sat on the floor of the under stairs cupboard, blade in hand, shaking and crying. She raised the blade to her wrist and the blood flowed freely. She leant back against the door, feeling the physical pain hide the emotional pain.

 

 

Sherlock stared after Kat as she walked away from him, confusion and worry in his eyes.

 

“See Sherlock, she doesn’t want you anymore.”

 

“Go away Mycroft.”

 

“Love is a chemical defect Sherlock, never forget that. All lives end, all hearts are broken. Caring is not an advantage.”

 

“Did you memorise that off the internet?” Mycroft ignored the insult.

 

“Just don’t be surprised when she forgets all about you, and falls head over heels for the next pretty boy to cross her path.” With that, Mycroft walked off.

 

 

John and Ed sat alone at the top of the climbing frame, each lost in their own thoughts. Eventually, Ed spoke,

 

“My parents will be fine with it.”

 

“My mum will, but my father...” John let that sentence hang in the air, unfinished, the implications of the ending spiralling though each of their minds, problems and disaster foremost in their thoughts. This was never going to end well.

 

“Maybe we could just, not tell him?” suggested Ed finally.

 

“Might work, but we’d have to not tell my mum, she’d tell him, they never keep secrets from each other.”

 

“Can’t tell my mum then, she’ll want to discuss it with yours.” They lapsed into silence again. After a while they left, going their separate ways, knowing the issue wasn’t going away, but each unwilling to take the only course of action available, lying to their loved ones.

 

 

Sherlock lay on his bed that night, thinking through what Mycroft had said. Weighing everything up. His love for Kat, and how she seemed never to tell him anything anymore, his concern for her not eating, and his annoyance at being blown off by her that morning, his dislike of Mycroft, and his knowledge that Mycroft had experience of these things. He had no idea what to do, but as he thought more and more, he made his decision. It was the right thing to do. He went to sleep with his resolve solid and firm


	5. A Study in Despair

The next morning Kat and Sherlock met at the park where they had first started dating, and sitting on the same bench, where he had asked her out just over two months ago, Sherlock told her what he had decided.

 

“I have made a decision,” he began, “Love is a chemical defect that results only in broken hearts, so I have decided that before either of us gets our hearts broken, I am breaking off our relationship. Goodbye. I’ll see you around at school.” He stood up and walked off. Kat stared after him, her eyes full of tears.

 

‘Why?’ she thought, ‘Why would he do that? Does he not realise that this breaks my heart as surely as if he had fallen for someone else?’

 

Outside the park Sherlock stopped and leant on the wall, half wishing Kat would come and try to reason with him, just to give him an excuse to change his mind.

 

‘This is the right decision,’ he reminded himself, ‘No broken hearts. But if it is right, why does it feel so wrong. No, don’t think like that, don’t feel. Sentiment is a chemical defect found in the losing side. Remember that, draw comfort from that. It was the right thing to do.’ He walked off, feeling as if he’d done anything but the right thing.

 

 

John sat on the sofa in his living room, feeling as if he’d been punched in the stomach. His worst nightmare was unfolding around him. Somehow his mum had found out about him and Ed, and now his father had returned and was being told. He sat bolt upright as the door opened and his father entered, still in his military gear, his Victoria Cross glinting on his jacket. He closed the door behind him then walked forwards, and, so fast that John didn’t see him, hit John across the face, causing him to fall sideways off the sofa.

 

“Get up.” His father said, cold, where his voice was normally so warm and kind, “No son of mine is to be a fag, you understand? No son of mine. We are moving, and we are never coming back. You are never to speak to this Ed ever again, or any of your fag friends here. We will forget this ever happened, but if you ever think about going fag again, I will beat it out of you if I have to. Do you understand me?”

 

“Yes, father.”

 

“Good. Go and pack your bags, we leave as soon as we are ready, I have already sorted a place we can stay until we find a new house. I have permission to stay home until the move is complete. Off you go.” John went upstairs, feeling sick. He loved his father, and he loved Ed too. He wanted to please his father, but he loved Ed.

 

 

Sophie climbed the stairs of the block of flats. She had done this many times in the last two weeks. Each time she came and stood right on the edge, separated from it by only a thin metal railing. Each time she had put it off. Another day, she thought. But this time was different. This time she climber over that railing and stood on the edge. Someone below looked up and shouted, his words carried away by the wind. She ignored the growing crowd of people below, and made her decision. She turned, and stepped backwards into nothingness. Closing her eyes she rejoiced in the rush of the fall, and the wind around her. And with no regrets or sadness she hit the ground and it was all over.

 

 

Kat stared at the bench, suddenly noticing the heart draw there, the crude K+S in it. The bench was littered with similar hearts, lovers bench it was nicknamed. However, she knew it was hers and Sherlock’s heart. Sadly, she picked up the sharp piece of metal traditionally used to do the scratching, and scratched a line between the K and the S in the heart, the traditional symbol of a break-up. As she did so, a tear slowly trickled down her face and landed on the bench. Feeling suddenly tired she turned and walked slowly home.

 

 

Ed sat on his bed, his head in his hands. He looked again at the text John had sent him, willing it not to be true, to wake up from this nightmare to find everything alright again.

 

 

Dad found out. I’m moving.

 

I’m sorry. Miss you.

 

JW xx

 

 

Nine words, that spelled two broken hearts and lifetime of regret. Nine words, that spelled the end of two loving relationships, and a lifetime of concealing. Ed buried his head in his hands and wept.

 

 

Jasmine sat on the platform of the climbing frame, looking at the empty spaces, left by Sherlock, John and Sophie, looking at the sadness and red eyes on the faces of Ed and Kat, reflecting her own back at her. So much gone wrong, where just a month ago they had been so happy. Slowly she rolled back her sleeves. Ed lifted his top, showing fresh cuts on his stomach, and Kat took off her baggy jumper, showing a once tight top that now hung off her undernourished body.

 

“We need help,” said Jasmine. Kat nodded. “Come on.”


	6. A Study in Adulthood

“Sherlock?” called John, poking his head around the door of his bedroom, “what are you doing?”

 

“I found your photo album,” Sherlock replied, not turning round, “I’d forgotten, no, I’d hidden away the memories in my mind palace, of all this, even the happy ones. I never knew what happened to her, and every day I regret what I did. If I just knew what happened to her...” John crossed the room and put an arm around him.

 

“I did the same, but I couldn’t bear to get rid of these. We were so happy. I’ve spend my life denying my feelings for men, because of my father. What he did to Harry when she came out and wouldn’t back down... It was awful. I never dared to defy him. Have you tried asking Mycroft about her?”

 

“He always refused to tell me. ‘Sentiment is a chemical defect’ he’d just say. Infuriating, but he’d never budge.”

 

“Get your mum to make him.”

 

“Good idea,” Sherlock dived from the room to find his phone. Ten minutes later Mycroft arrived.

 

“Sherlock, that’s not fair, you can’t just call Mummy on me, just because you’re upset.”

 

“I can and I did. Find me what I need. Now.”

 

“Fine.” Mycroft went to work. Only a few minutes later John heard a gasp from the living room. He walked in, to see Sherlock staring at the screen, tears rolling down his cheeks. John looked over at the screen to see,

 

 

Katrina Smith

 

DOB: 23/5/1979

 

DOD: 1/3/1999 aged 20

 

 

Sherlock stared at the screen, then turned to Mycroft,

 

“Get me the details,” His voice strained and angry. Mycroft turned back to the screen and with a few clicks brought up the page.

 

 

Katrina Smith died at the Royal Hope Hospital after being involved in a car crash the day before.

 

 

Sherlock couldn’t read any more. He turned and walked off to his bedroom, slamming the door behind him.

 

“Show me Ed Samuels’ records,” John ordered. Mycroft raised an eyebrow but complied.

 

 

Ed Samuel

 

DOB: 3/2/1979

 

DOD: 2/3/1999 aged 20

 

 

“Jasmine Thomson,”

 

 

Jasmine Thomson

 

DOB: 5/12/1979

 

DOD: 1/2/1999

 

 

“All the same crash,” explained Mycroft.

 

“If you knew, why did you never tell me!” shouted Sherlock suddenly from the doorway where he’d been standing. He ran towards Mycroft, who tried to block him with his umbrella, and failed. Sherlock slammed him face first into the wall, breaking his nose. He bent his arm up his back, until it was about to break.

 

“Why?” he growled, voice full of anger, “Why?”

 

“Sentiment...” began Mycroft, until Sherlock slammed him into the wall again, “Fine. I was jealous. I always wanted someone to love me like she loved you. But no one ever did. So I took her away from you. It was ridiculously easy.”

 

“And the crash?”

 

“Of course that wasn’t me. I’m not a murderer. It was convenient though. You were wavering at the time, thinking of going back to her. I would have found a way to stop you if they hadn’t died instead.”

 

“Get out,” John was so angry that someone would do that to their brother. Sherlock released Mycroft and repeated John’s words. Mycroft showed no signs of moving. John reached into the kitchen draw, pulled out his illegal gun and pointed it at Mycroft.

 

“Get. Out. Now.” Mycroft left. John dropped the gun back into the draw and sat down on the sofa, suddenly exhausted as he came down off the adrenaline high. Sherlock looked at the laptop once more, then shut it down and went back to his room, locking the door behind him.

 

 

Mycroft stood on the doorstep of 221B Baker Street, and climbed into the black car waiting at the curb. He regretted having to make those fake websites but he had promised himself long ago that he would not let Sherlock have his heat broken by anyone but himself, and he intended to keep that promise. He truly believed that sentiment was a chemical defect, and if Sherlock went and got back together with that girl, well it didn’t bear thinking about. The car pulled away from the kerb and Mycroft hoped with all his heart that Sherlock never found out that Katrina was alive and living in London with her two friends.


End file.
